


Trophy

by redredribbons



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Restraints, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2018-02-07 13:07:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1900098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redredribbons/pseuds/redredribbons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lockdown decides to have a little fun with his bounty. Set during Age of Extinction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trophy

Optimus Prime came back online in a rush. Optics flashing on in a burst of blue light, weapons systems singing to life, pistons working as he tensed his frame, readying for attack...

 

Except he couldn’t move. 

 

Snarling in frustration, Optimus strained against his bonds until the cabling in his arms and chest neared the breaking point. The restraints wouldn’t budge. Immediate escape ruled out, the Autobot leader took stock of his surroundings. He was laid out on some sort of slab or table-- not quite flat on his back, his torso angled slightly upward so he could see directly forward. The room itself was massive and circular and its walls were covered with racks and shelfs containing all manner of objects-- some recognizable as Cybertronian, others alien and baffling. Some were unmistakably weapons, but of no use to Optimus that far out of reach. 

 

The sound of a powerful engine echoed from the hallway outside, and Optimus’s head snapped forward, optics narrowed, hands clenched into fists. In a squeal of tires and smoke, a sleek gray Lamborghini Aventador drifted into the room and barreled directly toward Optimus. It turned sharply at the last possible moment, spinning a full 180 degrees and giving the Autobot a clear view of angular red tail lights. 

 

“ _Lockdown!”_ Optimus hissed. The enigmatic bounty hunter’s motives were not entirely clear, but Optimus had no doubt that they boded poorly for himself... and for humanity. 

 

Lockdown didn’t respond; instead he began a slow, languid transformation. Metal rippling and shifting, smooth plating inching back to reveal cables and gears and flexible wiring. Optimus narrowed his optics at the sight of all those graceful machine curves flexing and re-aligning. He hadn’t seen this sort of blatant display since before the war, when transformation had been its own art form, its own eroticism, as opposed to strict battlefield utilitarianism. Lockdown’s fluid movements, obviously well-practiced, sent a pang of longing through Optimus’s spark. Longing for what had been and was no more, longing for a home that would never be again. Longing for more contact with his own kind-- both emotional and physical. Contact he’d been starved for since he’d been in hiding, and even before then; the Autobots had had precious little time to enjoy each other’s company with threats looming at every turn. 

 

Optimus endeavored to remain stoic, however. This was hardly an appropriate situation to indulge such thoughts. “I’m not impressed, Lockdown,” he deadpanned. 

 

On all fours, Lockdown finished the final stages of his artful transformation sequence. Plating that had been the hood of the Lamborghini tucked and rolled back, folding up over the ample curves of his aft. He arched his back, lifting his aft even higher, and gave his hips a slow roll. Glancing back over his shoulder, he was met with smoldering blue optics raking hungrily over his frame and lingering on his backside. 

 

“Well, _Optimus Prime_ , I _am_ impressed,” the bounty hunter said, his full lips curling into a devious grin. He sprang to his feet and sauntered over to the bound Autobot. 

 

“ _Very_ impressed. I can see why the Creators asked for you...” he continued. He dragged a hand down Optimus’s chest and the tip of his tongue flicked out to wet his lips.

 

Flinching away from the touch, Optimus demanded, “Who are the Creators? What do they want?”

 

Lockdown pretended not to hear. His hands continued their unhurried exploration of the heavy duty frame beneath him, teasing along the edge of armor plates, barely dipping his fingers underneath to brush the sensitive wiring there. 

 

“Such a fine Cybertronian specimen,” Lockdown purred, “A shame I’ll have to hand you over in the end...”

 

Optimus wriggled uncomfortably and tried to press himself further back into the slab, away from that damnably skilled touch. Primus, how long had it been since he’d been touched like this? His massive engine turned over loudly; he glared at Lockdown in an attempt to make it seem like a threat. 

 

“Then leave me be, Lockdown. These ‘Creators’ of yours will no doubt want their bounty unharmed,” he said. 

 

“Oh, I have no intention of harming you, Prime,” Lockdown said, climbing onto the table and planting one knee on each side of Optimus’s hips, “That would be a terrible waste.”

 

Keeping his aft raised, he bent down to rest his hands on each side of Optimus’s head and run his thumbs over the vents in his cheeks.

 

“I intend to take _very_ good care of you,” Lockdown breathed against Optimus’s lips. His gaze flitted up to meet the Prime’s. Optimus parted his lips to speak, but his words were swallowed by Lockdown’s mouth pressing hungrily against his. His optics flared in alarm and his head jerked to the side. 

 

“Lockdown, stop. This is not...” 

 

Hands, squeezing and caressing his finials. A raspy voice venting hot air directly against his audio sensor. “Don’t fight it, Prime. Not when your chassis’s putting out that much heat. Not when I can feel you _trembling..._ ”

 

Lockdown took a firmer grip on Optimus’s head and forcefully tilted it to face him once more. He traced his tongue around Optimus’s mouth before sucking on his lower lip. 

 

“Better,” he whispered, lips brushing over Optimus’s with each word, “We have such a long flight ahead of us... I think it’s best we learn to enjoy each other’s company, don’t you?”

 

Lockdown deepened the kiss and Optimus froze, paralyzed by the warring sensations in his frame. Sensing the lingering indecision, the bounty hunter grew more persuasive. He lowered his body to press against Optimus’s, grinding slow circles of hips punctuated with steady revs from his 12-cylinder engine. His efforts were rewarded with the tentative slide of a tongue against his own. Optimus knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t stop himself. Not when Lockdown smelled like clean Cybertronian metal, not when the flavor of energon-- real, refined energon-- lingered in his mouth. That ghost of a taste was torture, and Optimus chased it without thought. Lockdown moaned into the kiss and moved his hips faster, interface panels shifting open as his core temperature rose rapidly. His spike folded out to full extension and he rubbed it wantonly against Optimus’s abdominal plating. With low growl, he broke the kiss and sat up, admiring Optimus’s parted lips gleaming with oral fluid. His dim blue optics were fixated on Lockdown’s spike, drawn to the green biolights along each side of the shaft. 

 

“You’ve seen mine, Prime-- now show me yours. Seems only fair, and I hear you’re all about _fairness_ ,” Lockdown smirked before turning around. His aft waved directly above Optimus’s face and, just below it, the swollen rubber folds of his valve, already visibly wet with lubricant. Once again Prime strained against his bonds-- this time yearning to squeeze that shapely aft so hard it dented. 

 

“The use of restraints is not what would typically be considered fair,” Optimus protested. 

 

“And who said _I_ cared about being fair?” Lockdown said, rubbing insistently at the hot plating between Optimus’s thighs. This time, Prime capitulated quickly. Heated metal unfurled into a thick, rigid spike, which Lockdown eagerly began to stroke. Optimus groaned, deep and ragged, and Lockdown supposed the Autobot deserved something of a reward for his increasing compliance. He lowered his hips a bit further, just enough for Optimus to extend his tongue and plunge it between the outer folds of that soaked valve, greedily lapping up the steady trickle of lubricant. Lockdown gasped and pressed back a tiny bit further, indulging them both as he felt the tip of Optimus’s tongue push inside. He pulled away quickly however, not wanting to lose control just yet. 

 

Reaching back he spread himself open with two fingers, smearing lubricant, and said, “Like that, Prime? Want another taste? Behave and I might find myself in a generous mood.”

 

“Find yourself in a generous mood _now_ , and undo these restraints,” Optimus snarled. 

 

Tossing a glance back over his shoulder, Lockdown grinned. “Hmmm. No.”

 

With that he pressed a kiss to the very tip of Optimus spike before tonguing the slit. Optimus’s head fell back with a dull clunk and he gave a shaky moan. Pleased at his captive’s responsiveness, Lockdown hummed as he wrapped his lips around the head and sucked. Blue hips rocked up in an impatient demand for more, but Lockdown pulled away, denying him. 

 

“And here thought patience was a Primely virtue,” Lockdown sneered. He gave Optimus’s spike a light slap for the impudence.

 

“ _You_ have no right to speak of such things,” Optimus shot back, though staticky need stole much of the gravity from his words. 

 

Lockdown, once again, was not listening. With a final, long suck, he pulled off of Optimus’s spike, sat up, and rolled his shoulders. He slid his frame forward down Optimus’s chest, gasping as the external nodes on his valve scraped over the rough edges of armor plates. Opaque lubricant smudged Optimus’s bright paint. It was filthy, it was absolute torment, and Optimus was about to thrash upward in attempt to buck Lockdown off when the bounty hunter grabbed his spike and took him straight to the hilt with one smooth glide of his hips. Optimus gave a hoarse cry as warm, soft heat enveloped him, calipers flexing and squeezing around his shaft. Lockdown braced himself on Optimus’s thighs and rode the Autobot leader hard. His jaw hung slack and his optics stared, unfocused, as he adjusted his positioning so the throbbing ridges along Optimus’s spike raked across the sensors in his valve just right. Optimus’s optics were glued to that round, perky aft bouncing so enticingly on his spike. Primus, the things he’d do to it once he freed himself from these fragging restraints... 

 

Lockdown’s slender waist moved sinuously as he gyrated his hips faster and moaned without abandon, “Oh frag, Prime... You’re _good_...”

 

Optimus vented hot air in heavy, rapid gusts and his radiator worked frantically. The charge in his systems was ramping up fast, like heavy pressure on the gas pedal. It had been far too long since his last interface, since he’d last allowed himself to recklessly surrender to base physical pleasure. 

 

“Lockdown, I’m--” he panted in warning as his hips snapped up to meet the bounty hunter’s downward thrusts. 

 

“Do it, Prime. Show me,” Lockdown panted, and slammed himself down even harder with a loud clang of metal. 

 

The charge building in Optimus’s sensors, in his spark, exploded. Every circuit in his frame lit up with sensation. Blinding oblivion filled his processor, momentarily effacing exhaustion, dread, guilt. He writhed under Lockdown and cried out helplessly as spurt after spurt of hot, sticky fluid gushed into, then overflowed, Lockdown’s valve. The bounty hunter was close too, feeling Prime’s spike pulsing inside him and the jets of fluid hitting the deepest nodes in his valve. He adjusted himself again, planting his feet and seating his full weight on that thick spike, forcing it even deeper. Arching his back and bracing his hands on Optimus’s abdomen, Lockdown ground his hips back and forth, dangling right on the edge. And then he was tumbling over, his entire frame convulsing as the calipers in his valve clamped down again and again as waves of pleasure rushed through his systems. The biolights along the shaft of his spike flickered and oscillated as an arc of fluid splattered up across his chest. 

 

The waves gradually subsided to ripples, and then stillness. Lockdown wasted no time in climbing off of Optimus. The Prime’s spike slipped out with a soft, wet sound, and fluid gushed back out of Lockdown’s valve to add to the mess on his hips and thighs. Leaning on the edge of the table for support, as his legs were still shaking, the bounty hunter smirked down at his prize. 

 

He traced a finger along the side of Optimus’s helm and said, “I think we’ll have ourselves a very pleasant journey indeed...”

 


End file.
